Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in her mouth. She'd been up since dawn, studying, working on essays, trying to prove herself. The rejection email was just another punch to the gut. She gripped the mug so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Her apartment, usually a haven, felt small and suffocating. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that sliced through the blinds, each one mocking her efforts. She could feel the tremors in her hands, a persistent buzzing that wouldn't cease.

She considered calling her mom, but the thought of the disappointed voice on the other end was too much. Instead, she just sat there, the bitter coffee growing cold, and felt the familiar, heavy despair creeping in.